


Cold

by TheodoreR (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheodoreR
Summary: Sirius is aware of the stupidity of his affirmation because the stone floor they’re sitting on is cold, the winter air even more and neither of them is wearing a coat.But Sirius always says stupid stuff after kissing James.





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to properly translate stuff but I find it relaxing nonetheless, so here some super random thing from when I was into James/Sirius.
> 
> [(EFP)](https://efpfanfic.net/viewstory.php?sid=1055215&i=1)

“Your lips are cold.”

James parts his face from Sirius, raising a brow ironically.

“Oh, really?”

Sirius is aware of the stupidity of his affirmation because the stone floor they’re sitting on is cold, the winter air even more and neither of them is wearing a coat.

But Sirius always says stupid stuff after kissing James.

A shiver runs through his back when James’s hand slips under his sweater, stopping almost casually on his hip.

“Let me guess, is this cold too?”

Sirius nods lightly, not making a sound.

He was never so unarmed in front of James, not once, but now he can’t stop looking at him and taking every small detail of his face in, anxiously, as if it was about to vanish.

“You’re cold too anyway,” James says as the corner of his lips lifts upward and all Sirius is waiting is for his hand to move again and his voice adding something like _“Do you want me to warm you up?” _as his lips finally give in to some mischievous smirk.

But James’ hand slips away from his naked hip just like his smile slips from his lips. For a second Sirius thinks he heard someone arriving, but then he remembers that no one ever passes from there.

_ It’s just them. _

James stares at him without talking and Sirius can’t hold that gaze. He closes his eyes and presses his lips on his, but they stay still, and when he opens his eyes again he finds James still staring at him.

“Your lips are really cold, Prongs. Maybe we should go,” He says and he’s already standing up when James’s reply stops him.

“Where?”

Sirius sits down again, because, he suddenly remembers, there is nowhere to go.

“Your lips are cold too, you know.”  
“It’s winter.”  
“It’s not winter, Sirius.”

It’s true.

It must be spring or maybe even summer, but it’s always winter there.

There must be a reason for all that cold and there must be something they can do to fix it, but Sirius can’t stop thinking about James’s lips and their color so close to blue.

Slowly, he brings his hand to James’s face and barely touches it with his fingers. And he remembers what he never forgot, never, _not once._

“Your lips are cold.”

_“Yes.”_

  
“You’re dead.”

  
James moves his lips against his fingers and his voice is just a whisper.

_“Yes.”_

And Sirius is alone, with the screams from the other prisoners in his ears and his hand still midair in front of him.

Without moving his eyes from where James was – _is –_ he moves it to his own lips.

“They’re cold.”  
He waits, but in the prisoners’ screams he finds only silence.

“I’m dead.”

And James’s whisper is in the scream of all of them and it’s always _yes, yes, yes._

Sirius is dead.

But he keeps feeling cold.

Sirius is dead.

_ But he still sees him, he still hears him and he still loves him._


End file.
